The Magical Christmas Cat

  as was very happily mated to Sascha. "Just don't use the same force on her that you'd use on me or one of the other males and you'll be fine."

  "Who said there's a 'her'?"

  "There's always a her."

  "Her name is Annie, and I'm bringing her to the picnic to-

  morrow."

  Lucas's eyes gleamed cat green. "You're introducing her to the pack? When did you meet her?"

  "Today."

  "Well, hell." Lucas rocked back on his heels. "She have any idea what that means?"

  "She's a little wary, but she likes me," he said, thinking of how her eyes had drunk him up. A man could get used to being looked at that way. Especially when the woman doing the looking was someone he'd like to eat up in small, delicious bites. "I'm going to court her first." But he already considered her his—because not only did Annie Kildaire arouse his most primal instincts, she was his mate . . . and he was a possessive kind of cat.

  Chapter 4

  Annie was ready by eight the next morning. Feeling jumpy and overexcited, she checked her clothing in the mirror one more time. She'd taken Zach's advice and layered it up, beginning with a plain white tee and a thin V-necked cashmere-blend sweater that felt divine on her skin . On the bottom, she'd worn her favorite jeans, along with a pair of hiking boots, in case the drive turned into a walk. Completing her outfit was an insulated puffy jacket.

  "I look like an egg." Caroline had made her buy the cheerful yellow garment, insisting it brightened her face. Annie had agreed because it looked sunny. But it wasn't exactly flattering. Oh well, she thought, peeling it off and putting it on the little backpack that held her camera and water, it wasn't as if this was a date. Sweet dreams.

  The memory of Zach's voice sent desire skittering through her veins. All she could think about was what it would be like to have that voice whisper in her ear while those strong hands touched her with bold confidence. "Oh, man." She pressed a hand flat to her stomach. "Calm, Annie. Calm." It was difficult to listen to her own advice when she'd spent the whole night dreaming about him. The tattoo she'd glimpsed on his biceps fascinated her—in her dreams, she'd stroked her fingers over the exotic lines of it, pressed her lips to that muscled flesh . . . and then touched another, harder part of his body.

  "A whole day" she almost moaned, and went to shove a hand through her hair before realizing she'd pulled it back into a ponytail. Now she glanced into the mirror and made a face. She'd eschewed makeup—who went to a forest with makeup on?—but had given in to the urge to slick on some gloss. It plumped up her lips . . . except that her lips were already plump. "Argh." Too late, she remembered why she never used gloss. She was searching for a tissue to wipe it off when the doorbell rang. "Who on earth?" Running to the door, she pulled it open.

  A leopard in human skin stood on the other side. "I was hoping to wake you," he drawled, leaning against the doorjamb. "But you're all dressed." He tried to look sad, but the wicked lights dancing in his eyes made that .impossible.

  "You're early," she said, unable to stop staring at him. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, hiking boots and a soft gray sweatshirt stamped with the San Francisco Giants emblem. Casual clothes, but his hair was still damp from the shower and his jaw freshly shaven.

  It was all she could do not to run her fingertips over that smooth skin and nuzzle the masculine scent of him into her lungs.

  "I woke up early—had somewhere I wanted to be." He smiled at her, slow and persuasive. "Are you going to invite me in?" Raising a hand, he showed her a brown paper bag bearing the logo of a nearby bakery. "I brought breakfast."

  She knew she shouldn't let him get his own way so very easily, but stepped aside in welcome. "What did you bring?"

  "Come and see." He waited for her to close the door, then followed as she led the way into the kitchen through the living room of her apartment. "You like to read."

  She saw him glance at the paperbacks on the shelves, stacked on the coffee table, placed face down on the arm of her sofa. "Yes."

  "Me, too." He put the bag on the counter and slid onto a stool. "Why are you standing over there?"

  She looked at him from the other side of the counter. "I thought I'd make coffee."

  "Okay." He kept the bag closed. "But you're not seeing what's in here until you come around to this side."

  He was definitely flirting. And she was definitely playing with fire by allowing it to go on. Because if there was one thing she knew about predatory changeling men, it was that they were quite ferally possessive—and belonging to anyone was simply not on her agenda. Of course, she was also getting way ahead of herself. He was only flirting. It wasn't as if he planned to drag her off to the chapel. "What do you read?" she asked, telling herself it was okay to try to flirt back, that this pull she felt toward him was nothing more than sexual attraction.

  "Thrillers, some nonfiction." He looked around her open-plan kitchen and living room. "It's a small place."

  "For you, maybe." He was so big, so unashamedly male, he took over the space . . . threatened to take her over, too.

  He glanced at her, expression shifting to something darker and infinitely more dangerous. "Hmm, you're right. You're a bit smaller than me."

  She tried to control her erratic breathing as she finished putting on the coffee. He just sat there and watched her with a feline patience that had her nerves sparking in reaction.

  "How long have you lived here?"

  "Last five years. I moved in after I got the teaching job."

  "Did you live at home before that?"

  She laughed through the thudding beat of her pulse. "Lord, no. I was outta there at eighteen."

  "You ever get lonely, Annie?" he asked, his tone liquid heat over her skin.

  "I like living alone. I intend to keep it that way." She thought she'd surprised him with that, but instead of replying, he lifted up the bag and raised an eyebrow. It was a dare. Annie had never considered herself particularly courageous, but she walked around the counter. He nodded at her to take the stool beside his.

  Knowing it would be silly to refuse, she got up, rubbing her thigh with one hand. He noticed. "It hurt today?"

  "What?" She looked down. "Oh, no, not really. It's habit." It was always a little achy in the mornings. "So, breakfast?"

  His eyes went cat on her between one instant and the next. She sucked in a breath at the intensity of that green-gold gaze. "Wow."

  He smiled. "Let's play a game."

  She had a feeling that playing with this big kitty cat was a very bad idea, but since she'd already given in to her insanity, she said, "What're the rules?"

  "Close your eyes. Eat what I give you, and tell me what it is."

  The notion of having him feed her had her heart racing at the speed of light. "What do I get if I guess correctly?"

  "Mystery prize." His lashes lowered, and she thought she caught a glimpse of something edgy, something that blazed with raw male heat, but when he looked back up, there was nothing but amusement in those leopard eyes. "Yes?"

  "Yes." She watched mesmerized as he opened the paper bag with those hands she wanted to have all over her.

  "Close your eyes, sweetheart."

  She swallowed hunger of a far different sort and let her lashes flutter down. It made her even more aware of the scent of him, the warmth of him, the sheer presence of him. When he shifted position to put one of his feet on the outside of her stool, effectively trapping her, she opened her mouth to tell him . . . something.

  But his finger brushed over her lips. "Taste."

  He was all around her, in her blood, in her breath. Losing her train of thought, she closed her teeth over the pastry he put to her lips. The flaky stuff just about melted in her mouth, and she licked her lips without thinking about it.

  Zach seemed to go very still, but when he spoke, his words were light. "Guess?"

  "Danish."

  "Wrong." She went to open her eyes, but he said, "No, keep them shut."

 
"Why?"

  "I'm going to give you another shot. Right now, you owe a single forfeit. Let's see if we can even the decks."

  "Forfeit?" She wondered why the thought sent excitement arcing through her. "You never said anything about a forfeit."

  "You never asked."

  As she'd thought—playing with this cat was an invitation to trouble. "Now I am."

  "Later. First, taste this." He put something else to her mouth, and she bit down, determined to get it this time—he sounded far too delighted by the idea of having her owe him a forfeit.

  She smiled. "Blueberry muffin."

  A finger brushed over her lips, making her eyes snap open. "A crumb," he said.

  "Oh."

  He didn't smile this time, watching her with an intensity that reminded her that for all his playfulness, he was a DarkRiver soldier. And DarkRiver controlled the greater San Francisco area. More than that, they were allied with the bloodthirsty SnowDancer wolves.

  "What're you thinking?" he asked her.

  "That you're dangerous."

  "Not to you," he said. "I wouldn't bite unless you asked very nicely."

  Heat flooded her cheeks at the teasing promise, and she was more than glad to hear the coffeemaker ping. "Coffee's done, I'll grab it."

  He let her go, but she had a feeling the game had only just begun. And that she was the prey.

  Zach wanted to groan in frustration as he watched Annie move about the kitchen. He'd come within an inch of kissing the life out of her when she'd licked her lips. Perfect, luscious, bitable lips. He'd resisted the temptation for two reasons. One, the cat liked the chase. And two, the man liked the idea of having Annie melt at his touch. He planned to seduce her until she purred for him.

  "Coffee." She put a cup in front of him, and he took a sip, attempting to behave when what he really wanted to do was haul her close and just take. Patience, he told himself. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Annie with the wild fury of his hunger.

  "It's good." Sighing in appreciation, he passed her the muffin and a flaky croissant with a chocolate center. "The reason for your forfeit."

  She scowled at the pain au chocolat. "So do the win and loss cancel each other out?"

  "No. I'll collect my forfeit." His eyes drifted to her lips and lingered there. "A kiss, Annie. You owe me a kiss."

  Her lips parted, her breath whispering out in a soft gasp. "And"—she coughed—"my winnings?"

  "I'll give them to you later today." He wanted to drink up the scent of her, spiced as it was by the seduction of her growing arousal. However that arousal was nowhere near enough to satiate the savagery of his own need. But the cat was a patient hunter. By the time this day was through, he planned to have coaxed and tempted Annie Kildaire until she was as desperate for him as he was for her. "Now eat, or we'll be late."

  She nibbled at her croissant, shooting him quick glances as he finished off the bagel he'd bought for himself. "When are you going to . . . collect?" she asked afterward, clearing away the cups with feminine efficiency that failed to mask her responsive awareness.

  "I've got all day." He slid off the stool and smiled. "Ready?"

  "You look very much the cat when you smile that way," she said. "You're enjoying teasing me."

  He walked over and took the basket she'd picked up from the small table in one corner. "What's this?"

  "I packed a couple of things for the picnic, and some snacks for the ride."

  He peeked in. "Chocolate cake?"

  "Chocolate mud cake," she said, with an adorable note of pride that made him want to claim his forfeit then and there. "I made it last night, gave it time to settle."

  "You'll be Sascha's new best friend." Leaning in, he brushed his lips over her ear. "And yes, Teach, I like teasing you."

  Annie still hadn't gotten over the sensation of his lips on her skin as Zach pulled away from her ground-floor apartment and out into the street. Open sexual heat laced his teasing, but she wasn't sure quite how far he'd take it. If he pushed, would she surrender?

  The temptation was blindingly strong. Not only was he beautiful in the most masculine way, she flat out liked him. Being with Zach, if only for a night, would be, she already knew, a delight. He wouldn't be the least bit selfish, she thought. His partner's pleasure would matter to him. And, given his nature, he wasn't likely to want any kind of a commitment.

  It was perfect.

  Yet Annie found herself hesitating. Already, she reacted to him more deeply than she had to any other man her entire life. What would it do to her to sleep with him, to know him that intimately . . . then watch him walk away? Her mind flicked to a slide show of images. They were all of one woman. A woman with years of disappointment in her eyes.

  "Look."

  She jerked up at the sound of his voice. "What?"

  "There." He pointed out the windshield.

  Her eyes widened at the parade of old-fashioned automobiles on the other side of the road, all huge bodies and gleaming paint. They were so old they had no hover capacity, but there was something very sexy about them. "They look amazing. I wonder where they're going?"

  "I read something about a vintage-car show about a twenty-minute drive from here. We could swing by after the picnic today."

  Despite her fear at how quickly he'd gotten under her skin, she couldn't help but be delighted that he wanted to spend more time with her. Hard on its heels came disappointment. "I have to be back by six," she said. "Family dinner."

  Zach shot her a quick glance. "You don't sound too enthusiastic."

  She understood the surprise in his voice. All the DarkRiver cats she knew had one thing in common—family was the bedrock of their world. And Pack was one big extended family as far as they were concerned—she'd had senior pack members turn up to parent-teacher conferences more than once when the parent was ill or unavoidably delayed. "My mom keeps trying to set me up with men."

  Zach's expression changed and, for the first time, she saw the ruthless soldier in him. "What kind of men?"

  "Academics." She shrugged. "Mom and Dad are both professors at Berkeley—math and physics respectively."

  "Are academics your type?"

  "No."

  He glanced at her again, and those eyes had gone leopard on her. "Are you sure?"

  "Quite." She found herself refusing to be intimidated by the sense of incipient danger in the air. If she gave an inch, Zach would take a mile. And while she might not be a dominant female, it was important that he respect her. She frowned. Of course it was important, but that thought, it had been so vivid, so strong, so visceral—as if her mind knew something it wasn't yet ready to share.

  Then Zach spoke again, breaking her train of thought. "So you'll be skipping the dinner." It was an order plain and simple.

  Annie opened her mouth. What came out was, "No, I'll take you."

  Chapter 5

  Zach's grin was openly pleased. "What's the blind date going to say?"

  She couldn't believe she'd just done that, ordered him to do something. More, she couldn't believe he'd agreed. "Probably, 'Thank God.' "

  "Huh?"

  "My cousin Caroline works at the university, too. The men come in expecting a statuesque, intellectual, blond beauty and get me."

  "So?"

  She scowled, wondering if he was teasing her again. "So, I'm about as opposite Caro as you can get."

  "If they ignored you, that's their loss. Too damn bad for them." He shrugged. "Do you want to put on some music?"

  She blinked at the way he'd swept aside the disappoint-ments of the past with that simple statement. If she hadn't already liked him, that would've done it. "No, I need to tell you something about my mom." She swallowed, realizing she'd made a mess of things. If she hadn't mentioned the dinner, she could've avoided this altogether.

  Zach groaned. "Don't tell me, she's a vegetarian?" he said, as if that was the worst thing possible.

  She supposed for a leopard changeling, it was. "No." For once, he cou
ldn't make her smile despite herself. "My mum is a little"— she tried to find an easy way to say this and failed—"biased against changelings."

  "Ah. Let me guess—she thinks we're only one step up from animals?"

  She felt very, very awkward discussing this, but she had to warn him about what he might face if he went to dinner with her. "It's not so blunt. She has no problem with other humans, and she admires the Psy, but she's never wanted me dating, or getting friendly with"—she raised her fingers in quotation marks—" 'the rough changeling element.' "

  "What about you?" A deceptively soft question.

  "That's an insult, Zach," she said as softly. "If that's what you really think of me—"

  He swore. "Sorry, Annie, you're right, I'm being an ass. My only excuse is that you hit a hot button."

  "I know." She couldn't blame him for his reaction. "It makes me really uncomfortable, but I've tried to change her mind, and it's never worked."

  "What does she think of you teaching in a school with such a big changeling population?"

  "That it's my version of acting out." She laughed at his expression, awkwardness dissipating. "No, she doesn't seem to realize I'm a grown-up, as the kids would say."

  "Why do you let her get away with it?"

  She was beginning to expect the straight-up questions from him. "My mom was on that train with me. She tried and tried and tried to get me out even though I was pinned under so much wreckage, she didn't have a hope of shifting anything." Her throat choked with the force of memory. "Her arm was broken at the time, but she didn't cry a single tear. She just kept trying to get me out."

  Zach reached out to run his knuckles over her cheek. "She loves you."

  She found comfort in the touch, and when he returned his hand to the steering wheel, she realized he'd somehow given her strength. "Yes. That's why I let her get away with so much." She leaned her head against the seat. "This thing she has for the Psy, the way she almost deifies them, it has its roots in the accident, too."

  "How?"

  "There was this boy—I don't know where he came from, but he was small, my age or younger. Cardinal eyes." She shivered at the memory of the chill in those extraordinary white-stars-on-black-velvet eyes. Psy lived lives devoid of emotion, but she'd never seen a child that utterly cold. "He lifted the wreckage off me."

  "Telekinetic." Zach whistled. "You got lucky."

  "Yeah." The Council didn't release its telekinetics for mundane rescue work—especially not when an incident affected mainly humans and changelings. "The medics told me he'd saved my life. My internal organs were close to collapse—a few more minutes, and I wouldn't have made it."

  "Did you ever find out who he was?"

  She shook her head. "He disappeared in the chaos. I've always thought that he teleported in from another location, after somehow seeing me in the live coverage. I remember there was a remote media chopper flying overhead, and if he was strong enough to lift the amount of wreckage that he did, he was strong enough to teleport." She couldn't imagine the strength of will it took to harness that much power. "He can't have been on the train—his clothes were spotless, and he didn't have so much as a smudge on his face."

  "Psy aren't born lacking emotions," Zach told her, "they're conditioned to it. So it could be that he was still human enough to feel the need to help when he saw what had happened."

  "How do you know about the conditioning?" She answered her own question a second later. "Your alpha's mated to a cardinal Psy." The news of that mating had sent Shockwaves throughout the country.

  "Sascha," he said, nodding. "Vaughn, one of the sentinels, is also mated to a Psy."

  She couldn't imagine a member of the cold Psy race embracing emotion. But changeling leopards mated for life, and the bond between mates was a dazzling beacon apparent even to a human observer. If these women had mated with DarkRiver cats, they were undoubtedly as radiant and as strong as the other women she'd seen. "Will I meet them today?"

  "I know Luc and Sascha are coming. Likely Faith and Vaughn will, too." He turned down a quiet road lined with trees. "I'll try to get you back by six so you can get ready for dinner, but we might cut it fine."

  She bit the inside of her cheek. "I think I should cancel. I really don't want my mom to . . . I would hate for you to feel that—"

  "Hey," he said, shooting her a glance that spoke of the soldier within, "I'm a big boy. I can handle it. Promise."

  Promises are for keeping.

  Deciding to trust him, she dug out her phone from the pocket of her jeans. "I'll tell Mom I'm bringing someone and that we'll be late."